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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22485367">legacy (not so lucky)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_littlest_goblin/pseuds/the_littlest_goblin'>the_littlest_goblin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Critical Role (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Study, Family Dynamics, Gen, Minor Violence, Next Generation, Post-Campaign 1 (Critical Role)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 14:14:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,468</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22485367</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_littlest_goblin/pseuds/the_littlest_goblin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Every family has a rebel.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III/Vex'ahlia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>133</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>legacy (not so lucky)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Footsteps echoed through the tight, stone stairwell, growing steadily louder as they approached.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Are you ok?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Johanna sighed. Of course he had found her. He always found her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She refused to turn and look at him, unwilling to let even her twin brother see the tears in her eyes. Instead she continued to stare straight ahead, out over the grand expanse of Whitestone. The Clocktower stood in the center of town, so every direction had a view of the city. Today’s hiding spot, one of many hollowed-out pathways designed for maintenance access, faced south towards the sprawling Parchwood. Based on the placement, Johanna guessed she was looking out from the space between a dragon’s outstretched wings. In the winter, this view would be blocked; that late in the year the clockwork Conclave would be defeated, their moving parts lying dead and dormant while the Vox Machina automatons faced off against a Vecna formed of gears and filagree. Percy had designed the whole show to end and begin again on the anniversary of Uncle Vax’s death.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> How wonderfully morbid of him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Johanna heard her brother’s footsteps approaching, felt the pressure against her left side as he squeezed to sit next to her in the window, legs dangling over the edge the way their parents always warned them against doing. Still, she didn’t look at him. If she sniffled, it was only because of the autumn chill settling into the air.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You know,” Freddie spoke after several moments’ silence. “You don’t have to leave.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Johanna huffed. Of course, he hadn’t come after her to offer support. He came because he wanted to continue the same argument she’d just stormed out of. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> If she leaned her head out a bit, she could see the house. ‘Mom’s house,’ Dad liked to joke that it was all hers, and technically not a brick belonged to him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I am leaving,” she said, voice hoarse but firm.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Why, though?” Freddie pleaded. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I already told you all why. If you’re going to yell at me too, stuff it. I don’t want to hear it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m not going to yell at you,” said Freddie. “I just don’t get it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What’s there to get?” Johanna huffed. “People leave their hometowns all the time. What’s weird is wanting to stay in the same place your whole life. I’m not the weird one!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> A chill breeze blew by them, making the many metal sheets and tubes affixed to the tower creak faintly. Johanna used the noise to cover a deep, shaky exhale. It was a hard fight to keep her voice steady against the sobs threatening to burst from her chest.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Do you… not like it here?” Freddie asked tentatively, like he couldn’t imagine how anyone wouldn’t. And honestly, neither could Johanna. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Of course I do. It’s home.” She was suddenly incredibly conscious of the feel of the stone wall supporting her— cold and rough, but so very familiar. She passed a finger over the white surface, tracing random swirls and shapes into the stone that had built this city, that was the foundation of her heritage. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>White stone: cold and pale,</em> old people sometimes joked. She wasn’t sure if it was her dad or Aunt Cass or some ancestor from generations ago who had started it. <em>Just like the de Rolo’s.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Johanna de Rolo didn’t feel cold. Despite the chill on the outside, inside she felt very, very <em>hot</em>. Burning. Boiling. Hot steam stirred underneath her skin; someone had to let it out, or the pressure was going to burst.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So why do you want to leave your home? Why would anyone want to leave home?” Freddie asked the open air, directing the question outward like some bird flying past might hear his plea and come land on his arm to give him the answer. Knowing her brother, it wasn’t impossible. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s not just about leaving. And it’s not like I’ll never come back,” said Johanna, repeating the same words she’d used less than an hour ago, trying to mollify her mother. But instead of being reassured, tears had welled up in Lady Vex’ahlia’s eyes as she’d whispered, <em>“You don’t know that.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Percy and Vex weren’t yellers, generally. There were better ways of resolving problems, they said. Johanna had thought she knew what her parents’ anger looked like: a disapproving glare, a stern finger wag, no weapons for a week. But she had never seen her mother’s eyes grow quite so cold and dead as dinner tonight, when Jo told them she was going to leave. She had never heard her father raise his voice the way he had as they argued over the adventuring life, and exactly what her parents could or could not forbid her to do.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She’d thought, maybe, in the back of her mind, that they might be proud. They might say something about her following in their footsteps, and she’d argue that, no, actually she was doing her own thing, nothing like them, and maybe they’d all have a bit of a row like they sometimes did over dinner. A ‘debate.’ Johanna took great pleasure in antagonizing her parents in just the right way to get the composed, levelheaded, oh-so-very-dignified Lord and Lady de Rolo all flustered and crabby. She would poke at them in the way only she knew how, get them riled up, but not properly <em>angry</em>. Those arguments always ended with some form of grumbled truce, and by the time dessert was served, everyone was happy again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Tonight was not that kind of fight. Tonight was yelling, and tears, and Vesper dragging a distressed Madeleine up to bed early. Freddie and Julius had both stayed frozen in their seats, silently watching their middle sister gradually lose her shit until she had to retreat from the house entirely.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Johanna sighed, squeezing her eyes shut against the memory of her mother’s look of betrayal.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Don’t you ever want to do more, Freckle?” she asked. She felt Freddie shift next to her, no doubt shaking off the detested nickname. That made Johanna smile, albeit weakly. It was hardly the worst nickname to have. He should be grateful she had stopped calling him ‘Pinecone.’ </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She continued, “Literally every person we’ve ever met has done something incredible. Every adult, at least.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Professor Horace has definitely never done anything incredible in his life,” Freddie replied, referring to their aged history tutor, whom Vesper had years before dubbed ‘the most boring man alive.’</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Exactly! I can’t keep sitting through lessons taught by people who haven’t done anything, hearing the stories of all the great heroes who have. Watching the ‘saviors of Tal’dorei’ gather in our living room every year for Winter’s Crest. I feel like… like I have to do something to earn my place at that table.” Finally, she chanced a glance at her brother. His face was the mirror image of hers: pale skin, dark hair, high cheekbones, straight noses. The only obvious difference between them was the coating of freckles along Freddie’s nose and cheeks. He looked solemn, but he always looked like that. “Don’t you ever feel that way?” she continued. “Inadequate? Like you haven’t earned your name?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Are you kidding me, Joey?” Freddie huffed a sardonic laugh. “Of course I do! I am Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo <em>IV</em>.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was hard to tell if Freddie was doing a spot-on impression of Dad, or if that was just what he sounded like and she hadn’t noticed the uncanny similarity until now. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Of course I feel pressure, Jo. We all do. How could we not, our entire lives are spent in the shadow of our parents’ adventures. Literally!” He waved around at the Clocktower, which was indeed casting a shadow over Whitestone, growing longer as the sun slipped lower down on the horizon.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Johanna had a sudden thought at his words, a thought which filled her with an intense excitement even as she tried to temper her expectations. Averting her gaze from her brother once again, she murmured, “Would you… do you want to come with me?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Even without looking, she could feel his gaze on her. She held her breath, waiting.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Joey…” he said, and she could tell just from that what his answer was. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>It’s fine, no problem. </em>That was what she intended to say. What came out instead was a harsh, desperate, “Why not?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t want to,” he said, and she pretended that it didn’t sting to hear. “You say you have to leave so you can prove yourself, but I want to do that <em>here</em>.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> A rebuke was on the tip of Johanna’s tongue, but she held it back. She knew her brother well enough to know when he was keeping a secret. She narrowed her eyes at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What? What is it?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Freddie sighed, but Johanna could see that he was holding back a smile. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Mom’s letting me come on the next Hunt.” A sliver of the grin broke through even as he tried to conceal it. “She told me this morning.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Johanna didn’t know whether to hug her brother or punch him. Given that either option came with the risk of knocking one or both of them off of the tower, she simply said, “Congratulations.” There was a hollowness to her voice. They both heard it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Thanks,” he said dully.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Come on, Freckle,” said Johanna, trying and failing to muster some enthusiasm and bury the acid burn of jealousy bubbling in her chest. “This is a big deal! You’ve wanted to go on a Hunt since before you could even carry a bow. Get excited!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I know,” he said. “I am excited.” He flashed a stiff smile, performing at her insistence while also hiding his genuine happiness to save her pride.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Suddenly, Johanna was filled with a deep, broiling anger. How dare he pity her! How dare he come chasing after her from that disastrous dinner, a secret stashed away that he clearly knew was just the thing to kick her while she was down.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>I’m so sorry Jo, that was rough. Getting shot down and yelled at by the people whose respect you want more than anything must really hurt. I definitely know how you feel. Oh, by the way, today I achieved my greatest dream, and also by extension gained our mother’s symbolic trust and approval, all at the age of 17. Which also happens to be your age, and what do you have to show for it, again?</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was all well and good for him. He and Vesper both: the poster children, respectively Vex and Percy’s mini-me’s. They had talent and opportunity perfectly matched, and had known their paths seemingly from birth. Julius was studious and dedicated, he would surely succeed at any venture he set his mind to. And everyone loved Maddie, regardless.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And Jo was just… leftover. All she was good at was stabbing things and skipping out on lessons, so what else could she do with her skills other than go out into the world and find some monsters to fight? </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Vex had called her ungrateful. <em>Throwing yourself at danger for the fun of it,</em> when she and Percy had worked so hard to give them all safe and happy lives.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>You don’t know what it’s like out there,</em> Percy had followed, gripping mithril cutlery with scarred, white knuckles. <em>People don’t go down that road unless they have no other choice. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Jo? Are you ok?” Freddie asked, concerned.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Rather than answer, Jo pushed herself back from the ledge with as much force as she could manage in the small space. She trusted Freddie’s balance enough to know he wouldn’t fall, and she would never want him to, but a small part of her still took a sick sort of pleasure at seeing him rock back with the force of her movement. In the split second it took for him to steady himself, she was already running back down the spiraling tower stairs, expertly dodging through large, slowly shifting gears as she went.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The Clocktower was the whole family’s go-to hiding spot, but Johanna knew a place no one would dare to bother her. Sacred spaces were for sacred occasions; to tread there any other time was disrespectful, bordering on blasphemous, to those that held them so. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Johanna was feeling extremely sacrilegious at the moment.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The bench was to the de Rolo family what a tombstone was to most people who had lost someone. With no proper grave to visit, the group of them made a pilgrimage every year on the anniversary to sit in contemplation and hear stories about the deceased. Vex and Percy, who had actually known Uncle Vax, visited more often, on days which held no significance to their children but were clearly important for some reason. Vex always went alone on her birthday.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> For their children, the spot held a sort of grave mysticism that made it both alluring and repulsive. To sit on it was to admit and submit to a depth of feeling which was scary for a child and downright terrifying for a teenager.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Johanna felt no such reverence as she half-ran through the woods, following the path of tamped-down grass and earth formed from nearly twenty years of grief. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She didn’t feel respectful. She wasn’t here to mourn. Those two things combined held a thrill stronger than any of her previous rebellions. Pranking her tutors and cutting her hair were nothing compared to this. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> With the bench in sight, she slowed to a jog, panting but full of energy. She had half a mind to kick it. She needed to <em>hit</em> something. And with Aunt Pike’s amateur craftsmanship, if she hit the right spot enough times with enough force, she might bring the whole thing tumbling down…</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She stopped with her foot hovering above the ground. Even with the pressure building under every nerve, threatening to split her open, part of her mind still knew well enough to pull back on the reins, hard. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Enough,</em> it said to her. <em>You are not that cruel. You are not that detached. </em>It was right.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Jo lowered her foot. Her breath was coming harder and ragged now, and she realized that tears were pouring again over the tracks that had only just dried.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> As soon as she became aware of them, the tears doubled. The sobs which she thought she had successfully fought off earlier now returned with a vengeance, wracking through her body like tidal waves. She shivered; the sun was halfway hidden now and the temperature was quickly dropping with it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Johanna dropped helplessly onto the bench, wrapping her arms around herself, meager placeholders for warmth and comfort. She hadn’t cried like this since she was a little girl, running to her mother for solace. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> As her violent sobs slowly evened out into a steady stream of tears, a flapping sound made her lift her hanging head. Blinking the blurriness out of her puffy eyes, she saw a huge, sleek raven sitting on the other side of the bench. It hopped closer, cocking its head curiously at her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, fuck off,” she said venomously. They all knew about the ravens. Whitestone was full of them. “I’m not here for you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Instead of flying away or cawing in indignation, the raven took another hop and fluttered up to perch on her thigh. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> This was not as remarkable an experience for a de Rolo as it might be for another person. They’d all been visited by the ravens, experienced their inherent good will. As kids, whole masses of them would flap about and land on their heads, and they would all laugh and dance while Freddie pompously informed them that a group of ravens was called an ‘unkindness,’ and Maddie would unfailingly tell the birds not to listen to him, and that she thought they were very kind.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Thinking about her siblings just made rage bubble up again in Jo’s chest. She swatted a haphazard backhand at the raven, hoping that would scare it off for good. Instead, it met her slap with a sharp nip of its beak.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ow!” Jo screeched, whipping her hand back and inspecting the wound. A small, circular puncture oozed blood just under the bottom knuckle of her pinkie. It was minor, the kind of injury she wouldn’t even bother asking Vex to heal under normal circumstances. She pressed her other hand against it, and within a few seconds the bleeding was already slowing down.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Judging by the razor-sharp glint of that beak, the raven had been pulling its punches.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Bastard,” she snarled at it, but her voice lacked rancor. The raven blinked at her, unimpressed. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What do you want from me?” she pleaded with it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The raven answered by extending its wings and flapping up to land on her shoulder. Johanna froze, struggling to keep it in her view without poking an eye out on its beak. It leaned into her, making itself comfortable in the curve of her neck, snuggling into her hair like a blanket. Hesitantly, she reached her un-stabbed hand up and stroked a finger down its back. Feathers ruffled under her touch. Johanna didn’t have her mother or twin’s way with animals, but she thought it seemed pleased.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She realized she was no longer crying. Now she took stock, the boiling anger that had consumed her every nerve a minute ago now felt like a low simmer, present but manageable.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Thanks,” she grumbled to the raven. It made a weird sort of gurgling sound which Jo wasn’t certain how to interpret. She chose to believe it was saying <em>you’re welcome.</em></span>
</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">The sun had fully disappeared by the time Johanna slunk back home, navigating by moonlight and the new prototype street lamps Percy had installed along the main roads.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She made it through the garden gate and in the front door without a sound, crept up the stairs with cat-like grace, and slipped silently into her bedroom.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She really thought she’d done it this time, until a minute later she heard the tell-tale padding of footsteps, and a soft knock on the door.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Come in,” Jo called through teeth gritted in frustration. Years of successfully sneaking past her siblings, her father, all manner of teachers, and the many guards of Whitestone, but she could never defeat her mother’s keen senses.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The door opened slowly, Vex’s head peeking around it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hello, darling,” she said, soft and hesitant.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What do you want?” Jo asked sullenly, not in the mood for pleasantries.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We wanted to talk.” Vex opened the door further and stepped inside, revealing Percy hovering behind her. Agitated and distracted, Jo had misidentified the sound of two sets of footsteps as only one.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She really didn’t want to talk to either of her parents right then, let alone both at the same time.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Can it wait?” she snapped. She knew she sounded like a brat, but couldn’t bring herself to care.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t think it can, actually,” Vex walked over to sit on the bed, Percy right behind her. Despite the late hour, they were both still dressed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> As soon as they approached, Jo stood up and went to stand by the window, arms crossed and staring resolutely up at the night sky, away from her parents. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We both said some things tonight that we regret,” Vex spoke as if her daughter weren’t steadfastly ignoring her. “And we wanted to apologize.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We may have been a bit harsh with you,” Percy added.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You think?” Johanna couldn’t resist taking the opening for sarcasm.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We’re sorry, darling,” Vex continued. “Your announcement hit a bit of a nerve with us, if you couldn’t tell.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We never wanted any of you kids to live the kind of lives we did,” said Percy. “I know it sounds glamorous and exciting—and parts of it can be. But mostly it’s sad and exhausting and dangerous.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I know that,” said Jo, unable to maintain her silent treatment. “I’m not a moron!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Of course you’re not,” said Percy. “You’re the smartest girl in the world.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Except for Vesper,” Jo grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Percy smiled softly. “There are different kinds of smart, dear.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Will you please come here, darling?” Vex implored to her daughter’s still-turned back.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Jo considered her options. She could obey her mother, which was never an appealing prospect. She could continue to stand here while they talked at her. She could open up the window and escape by climbing down the side of the house.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> A dark shape flew past Johanna’s vision as she debated, a form more densely black than the night sky behind it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> A raven fluttered and perched on the windowsill outside, considering her with its gleaming, black eyes. She couldn’t tell if it was the same bird from the bench, or a different one.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Sighing, shoulders slumping, Johanna trudged over to join her parents on the bed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Go ahead,” she grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Vex and Percy exchanged a knowing look. Jo rolled her eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Why do you want to be an adventurer, darling?” Vex asked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Jo straightened up in surprise. She was expecting to hear another lecture, not to be asked a question. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She opened her mouth to speak, but the words stuck in her throat. Despite laying out her reasons just a few hours ago for Freddie, she found herself uncertain and embarrassed of everything she’d said to him. Shame curled in her stomach when she imagined admitting her feelings of inadequacy to her parents.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Every adventurer has a reason—a motivation to live the life they do,” Percy interrupted the stretching silence. “For example, my entire family was murdered by cultists and the all-consuming quest for revenge was the only thing that kept me going.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Johanna’s eyes snapped up to her father. His expression was steely but his eyes were soft as they met her’s.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It wasn’t that anything he’d said was new information, but she’d never heard him talk about it so candidly and without preamble.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And killing monsters was the best way for me and my brother to keep ourselves fed and off the streets after we ran away from our neglectful, piece of shit father,” Vex added in a similarly casual tone.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Your Aunt Keyleth was on a rite-of-passage quest in order to become the leader of her people. Uncle Tary wanted to prove himself to <em>his </em>piece of shit father so he could earn his inheritance.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Uncle Grog just likes to hit things,” Jo countered, picking up on their game. “Why can’t that be my motivation?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Percy bit back a smile. “No offense to your Uncle Grog, but we rather hoped you kids would aim a little higher in terms of role models.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I think Uncle Grog is a great role model,” Jo snapped, partially out of defense for her favorite uncle and partially for herself. “He found something he loves to do and spent his whole life doing it. And I get your point,” she looked between her parents. “But I don’t know what you expect from me when literally <em>all</em> my role models were adventurers. How can you raise us all on stories of ‘the great Vox Machina’ and expect us to be happy as boring, idle nobles?” Her voice grew louder and angrier as she picked up steam. She couldn’t control it and, honestly, she didn’t want to.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m not like Vesper or Freddie. I don’t have a calling. I can’t just wait around in Whitestone trying to figure it out!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But what’s the hurry, darling? Why do you have to figure it out now?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Johanna deflated. “Because,” she said, much more quietly. “You’re letting Freddie go on the next Hunt.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Vex’s face fell. “It’s not a competition, darling,” she tried, but even she could heard the emptiness in her own words.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Just admit it. You trust him, and you don’t trust me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s not it at all!” Vex looked heartbroken. “Of course we trust you! But there’s a big difference between bringing Freddie with me and Trinket and the whole Grey Hunt, and letting you go off totally on your own and unprepared.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I am prepared!” Jo cried. “I’ve been training to fight since I was a kid. And I’m better than everyone else at it. I can beat Freddie at anything other than archery, and Julius won’t even spar with me anymore because he says it’s not fair.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We have you train with weapons so you can defend yourselves, Pelor forbid you ever need to,” Percy stepped in. “Sparring with your siblings isn’t at all the same as being ready for a real fight.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well then how am I supposed to be ready, other than to go out and actually <em>do </em>it?” Johanna argued.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Vex let out a sigh, deep and full of regret. “We just don’t want you to get hurt, darling. We know better than anyone how dangerous it can be.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’d be <em>fine!” </em>Jo insisted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’re not invincible, Johanna,” Percy said with a gravitas that sent a shiver down Jo’s spine. “Neither are we. No one is.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I know that!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Do you know that we’ve died?” Vex spoke suddenly, throwing Jo’s attention back to her. “Both of us? Several times?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I—what?” Jo stuttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Percy shot his wife a look. “We were going to tell you when you and your brother were a little older,” he said. “We agreed that some parts of our past were better discussed at a certain age.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yes, well, sometimes push comes to shove,” said Vex bitterly. She kept her gaze fixed on Johanna, eyes hard as steel behind brimming tears. “However ready you think you are, you’re not. However tough you think you are, there’s someone or something tougher, just waiting to rip you to shreds. I won’t have anymore deaths in my family. I won’t!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Jo cowed slightly under her mother’s intensity. In her mind’s eye, she saw Uncle Vax’s bench, and the raven, and then other, fabricated images of her parents lying still and motionless, covered in blood. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the images remained. A nauseous feeling which she didn’t care to examine settled in her stomach.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> A morbidly curious part of her wanted to ask for details—when and how, and why wasn’t that part in the Clocktower’s saga? But she couldn’t bring herself to ask.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Vex closed her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. Percy wrapped an arm around his wife, rubbing comforting circles against her back. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m sorry, darling,” she said. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Does Vesper know?” Johanna said in a near-whisper.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Vex and Percy both nodded. “We told her when she turned eighteen,” said Percy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I really do understand. I get why you want to leave. But I can’t stand the thought of you out there alone.” Tears continued welling up in Vex’s eyes, but none fell as she reached a hand over to cup her daughter’s cheek. “You’re still so young.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> An ocean of feelings churned in Johanna’s chest, a burning cocktail of guilt and sadness and anger and fear, and underneath it all that familiar, desperate, burning need to <em>move</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Her parents had succeeded in humbling her, but not in quashing her wanderlust. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I have to go,” she said, unable to summon better words to describe her state of mind. “I just… I have to. Maybe not now,” she relented, “but soon. Eventually.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I have an idea,” said Percy. Both his wife and daughter looked at him with curious stares. His eyes were sparkling in the way that meant he had connected some thread, found the answer to whatever puzzle was in front of him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Every year for Grog’s birthday, Pike and Scanlan take him on a little trip; they investigate some threat, whatever’s in the area. It’s usually pretty mild.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We’ll double down on your training,” he nodded to Jo. “I think Kynan would be up to the task.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Jo’s eyes widened. Kynan was their Captain of the Riflemen, a job that put training a teenager far below his pay-grade. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “If, in let’s say about a year’s time, you can beat Kynan in a duel, then you can join on Grog’s next birthday hunt. Give adventuring a trial of sorts.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Vex turned to her husband. “Percy,” she hissed. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Not at all,” he admitted with a small grin. “But she’s <em>our</em> daughter, Vex. You really think she’s going to let this go?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Johanna held her breath for her mother’s verdict, not even bothering to complain that they were talking about her like she wasn’t there.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Vex looked between her husband and daughter, cogs clearly whirring vigorously in her mind.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Alright,” she said finally. “<em>If</em> Jo completes her training, and <em>if</em> Pike and Scanlan are ok with it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Johanna repressed the urge to jump up and pump her fists in the air. Instead, she asked tentatively, “And if I can’t beat Kynan?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Then you don’t go,” said Percy. “We’re not sending you out there to get yourself killed.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Fair enough,” Jo conceded. She had no intention of failing.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Johanna surveyed the yard warily. A small crowd had begun to gather around the training grounds, word having spread to various Pale Guards and Riflemen about the portentous duel. She saw Kynan approaching her from across the yard, dressed in his customary uniform. A slight man somewhere in his thirties, he had a sad face and a quiet demeanor, and Jo had gotten to know him quite well over the past year.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “How are you feeling?” he asked her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Great!” she said sharply. “Never better.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I can tell them to leave,” he said, motioning to the guards milling about. “This doesn’t have to be a spectator event.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> A part of Jo screamed for her to say yes. There was enough pressure as it was, without adding more of an audience. She felt their eyes on her keenly, and the fight hadn’t even started. They were barely paying attention yet.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Jo squared her shoulders and looked up at Kynan with her chin held high. “Why?” she said. “Don’t want your men to see you get your ass beat by an eighteen year old girl?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kynan smiled at her. “As you wish, my lady.” He patted her shoulder, the feeling muffled through her leather armor. “Remember: element of surprise.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I remember.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Also, stretch,” he said sternly, giving her a pointed look before retreating back to his side of the arena. Jo dutifully began stretching out her limbs, giving her sword and daggers a few test jabs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The arrival of the Lord and Lady from their council meeting marked the start of the fight. One of the Pale Guard, apparently having appointed himself referee, counted down from three as Kynan and Johanna took their positions in the chalked circle, already demarcated for sparring, though no previous match had been as momentous as this.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They squared off for a few tense seconds before Johanna made the first move. She ran at Kynan, aiming for a weak spot in the side of his armor. He sidestepped her easily, and made to counterattack, but she rolled out of the way of his blade.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> As soon as she was back on her feet, he was there again, stabbing into the same spot she had tried to hit. She tensed at the pain. During normal training, that kind of hit would be an immediate time-out and call for a healer, but Kynan had forced her to fight through plenty injuries in the past year.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “A dragon’s not going to give you a time-out,” he’d say, repeatedly, substituting whatever monster happened to be on his mind that day.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Jo clenched her jaw as the dagger withdrew from her side and took the opportunity to kick Kynan right in the stomach. He stumbled back, gasping; she’d knocked the wind out of him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Without taking a moment to celebrate, Jo ran back at him with her sword raised, landing a solid cut on his arm even as he dodged the full force of her attack. He responded with a slash down the length of her cheek.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> No pulling punches. They’d agreed. Still, the shock of the hit stunned her for a moment. In training, no one ever went for the face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kynan used her hesitation to swipe at her side again. He missed, but succeeded in shocking her back into action. Rather than charge straight at him, she stepped around to attack from his weaker right side, stabbing straight through his leather armor into his chest, right beneath the collar bone. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kynan’s face screwed up in pain, and Jo retreated several feet back, letting him come after her. Now that they were in the swing of things, the nerves faded as adrenaline pumped through her body. There was no room to think about the people watching, and as her mind cleared, the memories of her training came back into focus.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>You’re small and quick, you can use that to your advantage. </em>Kynan’s voice played back in her mind. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> As he ran towards her, she sidestepped him. He blew past her, course corrected, tried to come at her from behind but she was already waiting for him. She blocked his attack with one arm and stabbed into his gut with the other. Stepped back. He stepped forward to meet her, and instead of dodging, she ducked and rolled underneath his perfect, wide stance. She was up behind him before he even knew what had happened. With a sudden stroke of inspiration, she adjusted her grip and hit him as hard as she could in the back of the head with the hilt of her sword. She had to stretch rather far up to reach, but the move was effective. Kynan dropped to his knees.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She thought he was unconscious. She thought she’d done it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Then a sweeping kick came and knocked her legs out from under her. She landed hard on her back, fighting the tunneling edges of her vision.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The next thing she was aware of was the familiar warmth of healing magic seeping into her skin, repairing broken tissue and replenishing spilled blood.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Her first thought was her mother, but as her tired eyes blinked open, they lit upon a freckled face, so very like her own.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Freddie?” she said, astonished and still disoriented. “Did you just heal me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He nodded, then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a sitting position with his fierce hug. She winced—his spell hadn’t undone all the damage of the fight—and he released her with a sheepish, “Sorry.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s fine,” she said dazedly. “When did you learn to do that?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Freddie shrugged. “It just sort of…happened. I dunno.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s amazing,” Jo said in awe.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>You’re</em> amazing!” he countered. “Since when did you learn to fight like that?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Her answer was interrupted by a hand on her shoulder. Turning, she saw her father kneeling next to her on the well-kept grass of the sparring arena, smiling. He offered her a hand and she took it. He pulled her to her feet as he stood up, and there was Vex right behind him. Her mother pulled Jo into a hug, gentler than Freddie’s, and released another, stronger bout of healing magic, which seemed to fix the rest of her wounds fully.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That was wonderful, darling,” Vex whispered as she pulled away. “I’m so proud of you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well done,” Percy beamed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But I—I lost.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Kynan is twice your size and has about three times the experience. We never expected you to take him down,” Percy said matter-of-factly. Johanna bristled, but was too tired to be properly angry, especially since her dad had a point.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But you held your own, darling. I’m so impressed with you,” said Vex, and Johanna fought not to show her glee.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s been a while since someone’s hit me with that move.” Kynan’s voice joined them. He was rolling his shoulders, apparently having been seen to by another healer. “Great job, Johanna.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sorry,” she said, not feeling very sorry at all. She wasn’t sure exactly which move he was referring to. He exchanged amused looks with Percy and Vex, and Johanna shrugged it off, too sore and tired to bother dwelling on the enigmas of adult behavior.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> As she made her way back through Whitestone toward home, surrounded on all sides by her chattering family, her siblings dissecting every moment of the fight, Johanna cast her eyes upward to the Clocktower. At this time of day, its shadow was falling on the other side of town.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She watched the automaton figure of Aunt Pike bend over the fallen form of her dad, the copper-green body of Raishan lying prone behind them, and she suddenly realized that in the Clocktower’s puppet show of Vox Machina’s adventures, what she had always assumed to be a scene of healing could just have easily been a resurrection. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Percy hadn’t sanitized their deaths from the story, after all. She just hadn’t been paying attention. The thought was oddly comforting.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You ready?” Aunt Pike smiled at her, shouldering her pack full of provisions and spell components, her armor gleaming in the early morning sun.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Johanna nodded, gripping tight to the straps of her own bag. Her parents had supplied her with more rations than she could possibly eat, and a couple hundred gold ‘in case of an emergency.’ She’d secretly removed about half the weight of her bag before stepping into the teleportation circle to Westruun, and it still felt heavy on her back, making her even more aware of all the other weight she was carrying with her armor and weapons.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Onward!” Uncle Scanlan cried, and began playing a jaunty tune on his lute as the group of them set off into the forest. These woods were much less dense than the Parchwood; ancient old oaks, wider around than Johanna could wrap her arms, stood at large intervals, creating a winding path of undergrowth that the four of them could walk through side by side, even Uncle Grog. A chorus of songbirds joined in with the lute, echoing their different pitches across the forest. Grog hummed tunelessly along.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Shouldn’t we be a little…quieter?” Johanna whispered to Pike. Her aunt laughed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We’ve got a bit of a hike before we get to where the chimera was sighted. Might as well let them get it all out now.” She cocked her head toward Grog and Scanlan, who were now skipping along in tandem in a sort of jerky, awkward dance. That kind of display should by all rights have embarrassed Johanna thoroughly, but giddiness and nerves and excitement were taking up all the room in her chest. So she just smiled back at Pike and continued along their way, occasionally joining the humming even as she kept an eager hand on her sword, ready and waiting. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A while ago I made a <a href="https://the-littlest-goblin.tumblr.com/post/188371928230/mithrilwren-thats-all-the-excuse-i-need-de-rolo">post</a> on tumblr about my de Rolo kid headcanons because I knew I'd never write a full fic for them. Apparently deciding I'm for sure not going to do something is the best way to get myself to do it.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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